


Long Walk Home

by tuesday



Category: Fallout (Video Games), Fallout 3
Genre: Bittersweet, Father-Son Relationship, Gen, Missing Scene
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-12-25
Updated: 2017-12-25
Packaged: 2019-02-20 02:32:06
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,146
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13137258
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/tuesday/pseuds/tuesday
Summary: It's a long walk from Vault 112 to Rivet City.





	Long Walk Home

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Masu_Trout](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Masu_Trout/gifts).



> This LW is named for his father, but goes by Jamie. This is set directly after retrieving James, and this LW chooses to accompany his father to Rivet City.
> 
> Masu_Trout, I saw you'd requested something about the LW & James and couldn't resist. I hope this satisfies. Happy Yuletide!

The walk back was awkward. Jamie had spent so long focused on the seemingly impossible task of trying to find Dad that he hadn't actually considered what to say to him. James Sr. had been grateful for the rescue and horrified that Jamie had left the supposed safety of the vault. He was even more horrified to find out why. Jamie wanted to shake him, to ask, "What did you think would happen?" But he also wanted to hug his dad, to express his gratitude at finding him alive. All the words stuck in Jamie's throat. 

The naive kid who'd fled security and radroaches alike was locked away behind the mostly silent mien he'd found it easiest to adopt as he learned to live outside the vault. Sure, he could charm, he could cajole, he could convince almost anyone to give him anything he wanted—but he had no idea what he actually wanted from this. Jamie had fallen out of practice with conversation for conversation's sake. Catching up or empty small talk—these seemed as strange and far away to him now as regular showers and clean water on demand.

Dad, bless him, tried. Wistful, he'd said, "You've grown."

"Mm," Jamie gave a noncommittal sound, even as part of him wanted to scream.

After an encounter with a yao guai, as Jamie calmly butchered it for its leather and future rations, Dad said, "You've, uh, you've gotten quite good at that. I remember when I got you your first BB gun. You didn't want to shoot the radroach at first, remember? You deliberately missed twice."

"I remember." Jamie also remembered the way the radroaches had swarmed Mrs. DeLoria, the giant ants he'd encountered on leaving the vault and the piercing pain of their pincers. He remembered the slaughtered bodies of raiders and traders alike in deathclaw nests. His attitude of "live and let live" no longer applied to things that could and would try to kill him or his fellow wanderers. 

Besides, a man needed to eat, and towns with their restaurants and well-stocked kitchens were few and far between out here.

That night, bunked down in a half blown-over house that had a couple dirty mattresses on the floor—better than walking all night or kipping on the ground in the open and hoping nothing and no one came along to turn it into an actual dirt nap—Dad clapped a hand to Jamie's shoulder and said, quiet, a little sad, "I never wanted this for you, but I am glad you're here."

They turned in. On the cusp of sleep, Jamie heard, "I love you, son."

Jamie swallowed. He worked his jaw. The words were trapped. When he finally got them out, he had no idea if his dad was asleep. He had no idea if he wanted him to be. Softly, he managed a wobbly, "Me, too, Dad."

The next day was awkward, but in a slightly different way. They were at a relatively peaceful stretch, and Jamie figured it wouldn't hurt to break the somewhat oppressive silence with a little music. They weren't close enough to be able to properly appreciate Agatha's music—the static rather overwhelmed the violin at this distance—but since Jamie fixed up the satellite dish, Three Dog was able to broadcast to just about every corner of the Capital Wasteland. 

Jamie did not take into account Three Dog's unfortunate tendency to include "Lone Wanderer" gossip along with the actual news during breaks between songs. This was a mistake.

"'Model of Selflessness?'" Dad asked as _Into Each Life Some Rain Must Fall_ started to play.

Jamie's could feel his shoulders trying to hike their way up beside his ears, but he was helpless to stop it. He mumbled, "Three Dog's been fond of me ever since I did him a small favor."

"And Wilks and Grayditch?"

"I couldn't just leave him there. Even if all the fire ants were dead," Dad gave him a look that said he didn't miss Jamie eliding over that whole debacle, "kids shouldn't have to live alone, and Rivet City wasn't that far out of my way. It's not like I'd have trusted Lesko to take him in."

"Mm," Dad said. He packed a lot more into that small sound than Jamie ever could.

By the time The Ink Spots rolled around a third time with _I Don't Want to Set the World on Fire_ , Dad had passed through a range of expressions, and Jamie was wondering if one could die of embarrassment. 

Right now, Dad had settled on thoughtful. "Rivet City, Megaton, Little Lamplight, Canterbury Commons, Paradise Falls—you've really been all over, haven't you?"

Though he knew, intellectually, that his father didn't mean it that way, what Jamie heard was, "You were willing to let anything distract you from looking for me, weren't you?"

 _Did you even want to be found_ , Jamie wondered.

Jamie got so lost in his own, troubled thoughts that it was a surprise when his dad spoke again. "I'm proud of you."

Jamie didn't know what to say. He said nothing at all. _I Don't Want to Set the World on Fire_ ended, and Three Dog went on for a while about the good fight along with a reminder that Megaton no longer had a live nuclear warhead at its center. Three Dog signed off with a short, "Nice going, kid!" _I'm Tickled Pink_ started up. They reached an asphalt road, broken up and crumbling as it was, and followed it a ways. Eventually, the road curved in the wrong direction, and they were back to hard dirt trails livened up by the occasional tuft of half-dead grass. Jamie turned off the radio. 

It was a long trip from Vault 112 to Rivet City. Even taking out all the times they had to stay quiet—Jamie didn't particularly want to take on a group of super mutants with his dad in tow—there were still hours at a time ripe for questions, for conversation—for grievances and forgiveness and to have it all out. Instead, Jamie's thoughts chased each other in circles, tumbling around without ever managing to tumble out. At least Jamie knew where his dad was, now. It wasn't like the man would run off without warning again. All the same, Jamie kept him in his sights, almost afraid if he looked away, Dad would once more disappear.

It was a long trip, but Jamie was sure it wouldn't be his only opportunity. He didn't know what he wanted to say, but he had the time to think it over. Whether Dad stayed at Rivet City or moved on elsewhere, he was back within reach. The words weren't there yet, but they would be. He had time. They had time.

(Jamie couldn't have known it was running out.)

Side by side, they kept walking.


End file.
